


16/02/16

by BleedingBishop



Series: Mystrade ScreenShots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Gen, MI5 Greg Lestade, Teen Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: Reupload of my writings in the LostandFoundMystrade's drabble collection.Originally posted 16/02/16





	16/02/16

“Doctor? Your three o'clock appointment has arrived.” said the young receptionist, a waif of a thing in a simple skirt and blazer.

“Thank you, please send him in.”

The man entered. He was tall, not so tall as to attract attention for it, but not short enough to be average. Silvered hair and tanned skin of a man who traveled regularly, with large brown eyes and a sharp gleam of intelligence to match the well-tailored suit he wore - this was a man of power and the brains to wield it.

The Doctor stood and reached out a large hand, the handshake returned strong.

“Good afternoon…?”

“Yes, my name is Mr. Colts, I am here to talk about one of your students here. We believe he may be a candidate to join our employment scheme.”

“Of course.” This was not a common thing, St Martins had a history of well to do boys being selected for well to do jobs, but rare that a potential employer would seek out the headmaster, and not the student themselves. “The student?”

“Holmes. Mycroft.”

Doctor Peats frowned before he could hide it.

“A problematic student?” Colts asked inquiringly, opening his briefcase and removing a notepad. A quick dip into his suit coat had him remove a pen a second later, and the notations began.

“In so much that there are very few boys who would be able to say why they find him trouble, and less staff than that, but never the less, trouble seems to follow him.”

“Would you be able to explain more about the academic side of Holmes? I have a few questions I would like to ask afterward, but we would like to know about his scholastic achievements.”

“Obviously. Well, as I am sure you are aware, Holmes is a very intelligent student, being in a year with peers three years older than his own 16, and even then giving them a run for their money constantly. St Martins is known for our great achievers, but Holmes is something else altogether. One could say he is too clever without fear of being corrected.”

“Hm. And his behavior in his lessons?”

“Stellar. A studious boy, well known for keeping up with our teachers with ease.”

“Uh huh. And socially?” At the pause from the headmaster, Mr. Colts looked up from his notepad. Peats sighed.

“Holmes is… something of an odd duck. Far too perceptive about his peers to have anything but an academic interest in socializing, as it were. A few close associates, one or two boys he has been known to strike up a discussion by his own accord, but apart from that he prefers his own company. A young academic to the core is Holmes.” He sighed again, rubbing his furrowed forehead.

“Do you feel this has something to do with his… troubled following?”

“In anyone else, I wouldn’t hesitate to say yes, but Holmes… he is a tricky one to place in a box, probably by his own doing. Never too fond to be analyzed. Nor held to expectations, mostly combating them by striving to achieve the best at his extras.”

“Very well. That is all the questions I have, but I was wondering if I were to have a word with Holmes now. I feel that he may answer more honestly in an environment he is familiar with.”

The doctor nodded his agreement.

“Of course. Andrea?” he called loudly and waited for his receptionist to return to the doorway.

“Sir?”

“Summon Mycroft Holmes, please.”

“Of course sir.”

She left and returned 7 minutes later with Holmes. The boy was heavy set, dark red hair and a battering of freckles across his face, but stood proud with his uniform as any good student would. Doctor Peats stood and removed himself from behind his desk and strode over to clasp a large hand on his shoulder.

“This is Holmes. Holmes, this man has requested a meeting with you about a job opportunity for when you leave St Martins.”

“Yes, I have a few questions, if you would be so kind?” Colts asked Holmes. The boy nodded, and after a quick farewell, they were alone in the office.

“Holmes, Mycroft Holmes.” The boy reached out his hand and Colts had no problem with shaking it. The grasp was different than his headmaster’s as if his fingers were feeling for his hand rather than grasping it. A subtle difference.

“Colts. Sit, please.” Colts smiled and motioned to the chair beside the one he had just vacated. The boy did, but not without suspicion.

“May I ask why you have chosen me for this specific job?”

“Yes. I work with a low-level branch of the government, and we are looking for dedicated individuals such as yourself who would be a practical employee with long prospects.”

“I thought 5 only sought out University candidates?” Colts stopped smiling. He put the notepad down on the hardwood desk and looked the young man straight in the eye.

“I Beg pardon?”

“Your name. It doesn’t ring true, to either you or I. It’s the way your mouth moves. It was a very natural lie, but your tongue moved before you opened your mouth. You were holding back another name. So why else would you hide a name unless you had a reason to? Hiding a name and employment? A grasping guess but one that felt right.”

…

Twenty minutes later, the two left the office.

“I look forward to working with you, Mr. Holmes.” Colts shook his hand with a nod.

“I as well, Mr. Colts.”

“I take it that you have been given an option, Holmes?” asked Peats, who had been waiting out in his outer office all this time.

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

“Right. Back to class with you then.”

“Of course, sir.”

Holmes turned away from his employer and headmaster as they began their farewells, and kept the contact card hidden in his palm until he left the building.

‘Lestrade. How tasteful.’

**Author's Note:**

> After a long discussion, I and Jack agreed to let me post my writing without argument, so now they're on Ao3 for posterity :)


End file.
